


Our Lives

by MikaMyers



Series: Persona 5: Broken [Side Stories] [3]
Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Canon, Rating May Change, Resentment, Self Confidence Issues, Warnings in author's note, Work In Progress, headcanons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-06-02 13:24:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19442335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MikaMyers/pseuds/MikaMyers
Summary: A series of character studies covering members of the Phantom Thieves. Each chapter focusing on one character and their backstory before canon events take place.[Canon-divergence // Pre-canon // Some Headcanon]





	1. Ann

“Have you seen her hair?”

“Yeah, she’s clearly a foreigner.”

“Bet she thinks she’s better for it, huh? What a fucking loser.”

Takamaki didn’t look towards the gossiping girls, instead keeping her head pointed forward and body rigid as she walks by. She didn’t want them to see her face, to comment more about how unsightly she was because of her ‘foreign’ features, her blonde hair, her blue eyes, her tainted blood.

No, instead she was going to walk home as per usual like she always did on Monday. And on Tuesday, and Wednesday, and Thursday, and Friday, and Saturday, and then repeat the same cycle until the year was up. And on each of those days, she would turn the other cheek against those who whispered about her, pretending that they just weren’t staring at her and how much of an abomination she was.

Her shoes clack against the pavement, her mind counting each one like she was perpetually stuck in math class. It distracted her from unwanted thoughts, from the things that they taunted her with behind her back. Sometimes right to her face.

_ “There’s nothing wrong with being different, Ann.”  _

She could imagine her father’s smiling face, bright eyes gleaning against the desk lamp he had sitting on his workstation.

_ “Then why does everyone always talk bad about me?” _

_ “Because people criticize things they don’t understand.” _

Ann never liked that response. It was the only one he ever gave whenever she would complain about her treatment at school What was she supposed to do with that information? Be happy that they didn’t understand her? Make her feel like even more of an outcast than she already was?

It wasn’t like he ever had to deal with it anyways. He barely ever stayed at home, instead off traveling across the world for his job alongside. He could escape the patronizing comments people made about being a ‘foreigner’ or looking weird.

She couldn’t. 

Her heritage branded her with the label of an outcast, chuck her aside from the general populous into a discard bin full of other freaks that dared to look different. Even if they couldn’t help it.

_ ‘353, 354, 355…’ _

At that point, her mind stops counting the number of steps she had taken at that point. It became too boring, the numbers forming into a dull slush that wasn’t much better than the intrusive thoughts that begged to be let in.

_ “We’re going to have to leave for a few months. You’ll be fine staying here by yourself.” _

Mom’s words seeped in, breaking the blank facade she was wearing. Of course, it was easy for her to just up and leave with her father to go to another country. It was fun to leave their only daughter to fend for herself in Japan, home of rising technology and rising stares at her disturbing features.

_ ‘They’re trying their best. I shouldn’t be ungrateful for everything they’ve given to me.’ _

She tries to excuse their actions. After all, it wasn’t like she was bumming it out on the streets of Shibuya. No, she lives in a penthouse suite with a view that was to die for. Her closet was filled to the brim with clothing, anything thing she could ever want was at her fingertips.

Besides the respect from the general population. That was something her parents couldn’t buy her, nor something that seemed like it could ever be achieved. She couldn’t stop the comments from those around her, she couldn’t stop the stares and gawking, either in disgust or in lust.

The former Ann could deal with somewhat. It hurt and made school a living hell at times. But… those lustful stares. A thousand cold fingers rippled down her back at the thought.

Beady eyes staring at her chest, her exposed skin, the way her clothing hung onto her developing body.

It was disgusting.

Yet, there was nothing she could do about it. Her mother had said all women had to deal with lingering glares and the best thing was to just ignore it. After all, it must’ve meant you were doing something right.

Ann buzzes herself into her apartment, quickly making her to the elevator before any of the usual residents could gawk at her. 

There was an older man that lived on one of the floors beneath her suite, maybe in his late thirties, early forties. A salaryman of some type, likely richer than usual considering he was able to afford the rent there.

She didn’t know if he made it a point to idle in the ground level, but Ann swore she couldn’t list the number of times he would be there right as she came back from school. At first, her mind chalked it to just being a coincidence. Surely he must be coming back from work at three in the afternoon. 

Surely.

Then he began to talk to her. Normal at first, pleasantries. Then it became more personal. Where were her parents? How old was she? Did she like Japan? Your features are gorgeous. It's not every day you see someone so beautiful yet exotic. Your parents did right in having you.

Creepy and fetishizing wasn’t a combination she was keen on keeping in contact with and so, tried her best to stay away from him every chance she took. Keyword on ‘tried.’

Before the elevator doors could close, a hand slid in between, pushing the doors open and the salaryman’s face peered at her with an intense smile.

“Ah, it looks like I made it on time!” A boisterous laugh follows after and he stands beside her. Just the pair, all alone in the elevator.

_ ‘I love my life.’ _

“You… certainly did,” Ann replies, mustering her best ‘I’m not creeped out’ smile and let her fingers latch on harder to her bag.

“So, how was your day, Takamaki-san?” His head twists to stare at her, face peering more at her body than her eyes.

“Um, it was okay. Just the usual. How about… you?” 

“Just fine, even better now!” Another laugh that made her skull crack into a million pieces by the sheer pitch it had. “You really know how to make a guy look forward to getting home.”

If there was one thing going on for him, it was that he had guts. She could never surmise how half the things he said ever came out of his mouth, let alone to an underage girl. 

_ “If they’re staring at you, you must be doing something right.” _

Was she really supposed to just let this grown man stare at her, say these things to her, and just let it happen? How was anyone supposed to live with that type of attention?

And in her heart, she knew there was nothing she could do about it. The police barely ever took reports of assault seriously. It might as well of been a simple case of jaywalking than someone taking advantage of a helpless person.

“That’s good to know,” Ann says, wishing the elevator would hurry the fuck up and get her to her floor already. 

And that was that. The elevator dings, causing the man to wish her a good rest of her day and leave to his apartment. Her eyes close as she lets out a breath, welcoming the closing doors separating him from her.

She exits the elevator soon after, unlocking and entering the suite. Ann immediately heads for her room, closing the door behind her before her caregiver could come to greet her.

Bag thrown on top of her dresser, she crashes into her bed, face mashing into her pillow, tears staining the fabric.

Ann wanted to forget the day’s events, forget about her time in Japan, her parents leaving her once again, the stares she received, the whispers and taunts…

But especially, she wants to forget the way his pants tightened at seeing her in the elevator.


	2. Ryuji

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Running is what he's best at. Ryuji knows this.

Run.

The word repeats through his mind over and over, telling to go faster until he couldn't feel his sneakers smack against the pavement until he could escape the taunts and the whispers from his classmates, from his teachers, from _him._

Ryuji doesn’t know where he’s going and doesn’t really care much to be honest. Anywhere was better than there, where he could hear the jeers from that piece of shit. Why would he tell everyone about it? Why would he disclose his home life, the fact that his dad used to beat him to a pulp? 

What the fuck was the point in doing that?

They had been doing great. He remembered the excitement bubbling throughout the rest of the team, the chance to prove themselves and showcase that they could win the championship. Ryuji even remembered a few members joking about making the school known for track instead of volleyball. And… he remembered them telling him that he would be the one to help them win that.

It had meant a lot to him, so much more than he could ever express. The chance to shine and be a star was something he always wanted to obtain. When he was younger, that dream didn’t have much buzz to it, constantly berated that he would never amount to anything from his old man.

Now that he’s gone… now that he has a chance… it’s being broken all over again. It’s like his dad had taken over as his coach now.

His head shakes at the evading thoughts, running away from them as they trailed after him. Sakamoto could hear them getting closer, their feet beating against the road and trying to dig their claws into his head. But he was faster. They could never outrun the sprint master.

“Shit!”

Ryuji skids on the ground, practically making a cartoonish puff of smoke appears from his shoes. The car honks at him angrily, the driver flipping him the bird before continuing on down the road. He sighs, laughing giddily from the buzz of adrenaline and fear.

_‘Man, that coulda been bad. Really need to stop running through the roads without looking.’_

He can’t help himself, the speed was just such a rush that coursed through his veins and told him that it was going to be okay, that the intrusive thoughts attempting to catch up behind him would not make it to him. He would beat them away, he would show them who was the boss.

Ryuji leans against one of the crooked trees surrounding the road, skipping songs until he found one that could restart the buzz that he had lost. When he finally looks up, he’s surprised that he had found himself at his secret place.

The stretch of road was abandoned by most, littered with potholes that the city had simply left to be corroded over time. It was an ugly sight but definitely made the place much quieter. It wasn’t something he was used to living in bustling Tokyo, so finding this small patch of the abandoned road had been an exciting discovery, a secret for him to cherish. 

Trees branched out from the sides, clawing their way to the sky with bare limbs like nimble fingers. Sakamoto had been a little nervous when he first found the place, reminding him of a horror movie, but soon to grow to love the place. Really, it was a second home when his actual home wasn’t too… homey suffice to say.

The fact that even without much of a destination, Ryuji found himself back here meant something. Something that he didn’t really care to understand at the moment. 

His muscles stretch, rubbing against his loose tank top and joggers, ready to get started again with his training. Ryuji was proud of his progress throughout high school, starting from a scrawny wimp to the powerhouse that he considered himself now. It was nice to have something that others didn’t, and it was made even better when he knew that it was all through his hard work.

Sakamoto’s shoes kick up the underneath as he starts, starting at a moderate pace before slowly gaining more speed and traction. His old coach had compared running to racing when he had first started, slowly having to get your bearings before picking up the speed and making your way around that track without crashing.

He found the metaphor kinda dumb at first, not really seeing the similarities but came to appreciate it as time went on, Ryuji comparing his body to a well-oiled machine ready to win the gold through power and endurance.

Ryuji found himself frowning at the thought of his old coach, a bitter pang striking his heart. He and his team were devastated to find that he was retiring, throwing the old man a party as a last goodbye. Some of his teammates even let out a few tears, Ryuji hiding his behind eating a slab of cake.

The school had told them that the new coach was an award winner in the Olympics, something that Sakamoto had high hopes for. To be trained by someone who managed to win medals at such an event was practically like meeting a celebrity! He wanted to impress the man, to show him that he had the guts and attitude to make it to where the man had been previously.

A rumbling growl left Ryuji. Where the fuck did all that hype go? Went right into the trash it did. It started off good enough, Sakamoto finding the guy to be cocky but a good enough coach. He even complimented Ryuji a few times in the beginning! 

Then… Then it went to shit.

Ryuji didn’t want to think of it anymore. The pain in his heart told him to stop thinking of it. Instead…

Run.

He kept going, soon leaving that stretch of road and making it back into the city. His house was close by, he could tell when the streets were more cracked than paved, when the air got just a tad more polluted, when the sun shone just a little dimmer.

His body’s stopped but his heart pounds. He can hear his mother from inside the house, likely cooking considering the time. Ryuji places his hand on the doorknob, hesitating on twisting it. He could imagine the loud clatter of dishes thrown, ferocious anger stemming from his father.

And for a moment… he could hear Kamoshida’s voice coming from inside.

_“You little fucking punk. Do you really think you can make it to the Olympics? What a waste of air you are.”_

…

He opens the door, stepping inside the trash-ridden house.

“Ma, I’m home!”


End file.
